Avocados in Space
by lorraynestorm
Summary: Kirk and Spock are chasing an alien with a strange machine when they're transported to Hell's Kitchen. Through detective work, mind melding, and crime fighting Matt and Foggy help them connect it all to local bigshot Wilson Fisk. Suddenly it's a race against time for the duo to find a way home with the machine before Fisk can use this alien technology. [Spirk, Matt/Foggy]


James T Kirk had seen many things in the few years of captaincy he had experienced so far. He'd explored new worlds, he'd gotten himself in the middle of wars large and small, he'd found himself in a universe unlike his own, he'd time traveled more than once. Miraculously, his leadership skills and luck had kept him alive. Kirk had expected at least some of these to happen again, but somehow he hadn't thought that they'd come all at once. Really, he thought later, he should have expected as much.

That thought did not enter his mind at the moment. He found himself standing in a dank alley, surrounded by rotting garbage and the oppressive smell of smog. His regulation boots were ankle deep in a murky puddle. If he were a lesser man, the derelict state of the alley may have caused him to cough or gag. But if the vulcan standing next to him with superior senses could stand it with nothing more than a raised eyebrow, then so could he. Kirk placed a hand on the phaser at his belt and glanced around the alley. "Assessment, Mr Spock?"

"Quite interesting, Captain," Spock murmured, walking towards an overflowing dumpster. He pushed few pieces of trash out of the way and picked a newspaper out from the pile. "We appear to be in an urban Earth-like alley of sorts. A rather unkempt example of such, from my personal experience. Also… this publication claims that we have arrived in the 21st century."

"What?" Kirk took the paper from his First Officer. Sure enough, the date stared back at him. He wasted no time reading articles about land development or petty crimes, deciding instead that the situation needed some investigation. He motioned for Spock to follow him as he crept to the mouth of the alley. "No clotheslines like last time, Spock. Stay in the shadows until we can find some less conspicuous clothes."

They found themselves walking down a side street in a strange city, apparently underpopulated during the night. The pair crept quietly, looking for more clues as to why they had been transported to the strange time and place, and completely unaware that they were being watched from above. Kirk put a hand on Spock's shoulder to stop him, head snapping to the right as a young woman left a derelict building and trudged past them. "She didn't see us. Stay on this side, I'm going to get closer and see if I can figure anything out."

The captain felt a seed of irritation in the back of his mind, distant but obvious. He knew this emotion was not his own. Wordlessly he smiled, squeezed his First Officer's shoulder, and sent a reassuring feeling through their link. Spock's expression didn't change from professional detachment, but he knew the sentiment was received. "Yes, Jim."

Kirk crossed the street and tailed the girl, keeping a respective distance behind her. It was nearly five minutes before he began to suspect that she was aware of his following. Long braided hair fell over her shoulder as she glanced nervously backwards. Her pace picked up. Jim cursed himself, but felt that the need for information on the planet was too important to give up his endeavour.

"Who's there?" An angry voice called out suddenly, stopping Kirk in his tracks. The young woman had halted, turning sharply around and producing a canister from her bag. Even in the dark, he knew that putting his hand on his phaser was an accident. "I've got a weapon, get back! Go!"

"Please-" Kirk raised his hands in the air, preparing an explanation.

"I'm not afraid to use it!" Though her voice shook very slightly, her hand was steady and confident. Kirk had seen this frightful determination on many war-stricken planets. His memory conjured up a similar situation in which he was faced with a young alien with significantly more purple on their face and more incentive to be drawing weapons. (Kirk had been chasing the alien with his phaser drawn, but only because he was running from an unseen threat himself.) This woman was used to danger, and Kirk had been foolish enough to create a situation that would have alarmed even him. He bowed his head submissively.

She cried out in surprise when Spock appeared at her side, wrenching the canister out of her grasp.

"Spock!" Kirk inclined his head again. "I am very sorry, miss. There's been a big misunderstanding."

"Yeah, a big one!" She wrenched her wrist of Spock's grasp, glaring at him. "What do you want? I don't have any money. What the hell are you guys wearing?"

The woman drew herself up, both trying to appear larger than herself and also drawing away into a corner. She shivered in the large coat. She wearily eyed Kirk's golden uniform with squinting painted lids.

"Both very good questions." Jim's voice was confident, as command dictated, but he was lost for words once again. His eyes flickered to Spock.

"Costumes, m'am," supplied Spock, casually holding his arms behind his back.

Recognition dawned on the pinched face. "Ahh, I see now. And what are you supposed to be, Blue? Some mutant, or an alien? You guys trying to be the city's next creepy superheros?"

Spock raised an eyebrow dryly. Jim chuckled, "We were aiming for the alien look, actually. I assure you, we're no 'superheros,' either. We just wanted some information."

"What? What could I tell you?" The woman shoved her hands in her pockets, glancing at the cannister in Spock's hand. "Give me that back. Look, if you're gonna try to kidnap me or something, at least let me run. I'd like to go out fighting."

"No- no, of course not. Why would you think we'd do something like that?"

"Do you live under a rock or something?" She rolled her eyes. "No one's safe out here, man. My sister was kidnapped by guys like you, my brother was shot by a _cop_. The only good guy out there shows up randomly and wears a goddamn mask…."

"A creepy superhero?"

"You could say that," she spat. Jim glanced at Spock meaningfully. The question in his mind was rather shapeless, but he knew what was being asked- _Was the masked hero the one that sent us here?_ "Gimme my mace back, and leave me alone. I can't break my mom's heart like this."

"Oh, yes. Spock, give her the can. We can trust her, I'm sure." Kirk did not add that vulcan reflexes were faster than a human girl's under pressure. "Now, Ms-?"

"Call me Desta," she muttered reluctantly.

"Could you tell me where we are?"

"Hell's Kitchen?" Desta's narrowed eyes betrayed exactly what she thought about the state of Kirk's head, even without pointed ears stuck on. "Or do you wanna know what planet?"

"Couldn't hurt."

"Earth, you loser."

"Alright. Thank you, Desta. And what year?"

Desta sighed, stamping a high heel childishly on the damp cement. "Look, I'm just trying to go home. Stop playing games! My mom's sick and I gotta-"

"Please, accept my sincerest of apologies Ms Desta." Kirk bowed his head and motioned behind her. "You're free to go. Is there some way we can contact you?"

She gave both of them one last look before turning on her heel and walking briskly away. They barely heard her mutter, "Like I'd give you freaks my number…."

"Well, that wasn't quite as helpful as I thought it'd be."

"On the contrary, Jim. We learned many things." Spock moved closer to the shadows and began walking again. "Ms Desta has shown us that the people here are hostile, corrupt, weaponized. We know to exercise special care when interacting with authority figures and citizens during the night."

"Also that people these days can recreate a vulcan with costume makeup."

"Indeed. What is more fascinating is the hero she mentioned. Do you believe the masked man is actually, as humans of this time period would say, a 'superhero'?"

"I'm not sure, Spock. But by the sound of it, he might not be the only one out there." Both officers jerked to attention at the distant screams. They were followed by thumping, and angry male voices. "But maybe we'll be able to find out."

Matt Murdock stood tall in the open air. The building he perched on was long abandoned, and it was smack in the middle of Hell's Kitchen. It wasn't his favourite vantage point, but it worked. He listened intently. Matt could hear the group of young men being rowdy outside of a bar, a couple girls sharing secrets by their open apartment window, and on his other side he could hear a middle aged man yelling at a woman. He paid attention to that for a moment, but it became clear soon: he was her boss, and he wasn't happy, but she would be fine. He moved on.

He almost moved towards the young girls with the elevated heart rates (they were nervous and speed-walking, but that wasn't _entirely_ out of the ordinary in the city streets) but then he heard something new. Where before there was nothing, suddenly the sounds of two men in the alley behind his building came toward him. One seemed normal, but the other had the strangest heartbeat. The one with the weird heart was moving and talking, and Matt had to investigate. He crept to the edge of the building and listened closely. They were on the move.

He followed on the rooftops. Matt almost intervened when the strange duo began tailing a young woman. He moved faster, staying nearly on top of them. This was far from the first time something like this had happened- the number of kidnappings seemed only to grow as the weeks went by. Or attempted kidnappings, at least. He was getting better at stopping them. But when the fiery woman turned on her pursuers and nearly maced them, the men backed off. That was entirely irregular behaviour.

The masked man was about to communicate with those weird intruders when he heard the screams. His body reacted before his mind, flinging himself over the ledge of the building onto another, and running toward them. He didn't notice the men following him below. They were probably just fanatics anyway.

The two women he had almost gone to earlier were being hauled away by the rowdy boys. Matt swore to himself. If only he had stayed his curiosity. Luckily, the attackers were drunk and clumsy, and the girls were putting up a fight. He hadn't lost too much time.

One drunk guy was already unconscious before Jim and Spock arrived on the scene.

They were sprinting towards the disturbance, no longer careful to hide pointy ears and future weapons. The noises had evolved into a struggle, filled with gunshots and grunts and the sounds of fists on flesh. Spock grabbed Jim before he could barge into the thick of it. They hid behind the corner, waiting.

"What are you doing, Spock? We need to help."

"Wait, Jim," he muttered, peering around the corner. "Someone is helping already."

"Let me see." They watched in amazement. The night was dark, but light pollution from distant apartments provided enough to see a figure in black moving incredibly fast. He disarmed an attacker coming from behind. He dodged a _bullet_. Who was this?

"The masked man," Spock supplied, sensing the question. "Fascinating. He seems to move before he could logically account for their attacks."

"What do you mean? How is he doing this?"

"He must possess considerable night vision in order to gauge their movements. Superior strength and dexterity, as well as speed. Those can be trained. How the masked man tracks attacks behind him, however, is unknown to me."

Jim winced. The hero had successfully knocked away a gun, but his opponent struck his jaw with the other hand. "Even superheros make mistakes. Spock, things are getting serious."

"Captain, I must advise against intervening in the masked man's altercation unless it proves fatal. We know nothing about this fight, nor do we wish to violate the prime directive."

Jim growled. Against every instinct in his body, they held back and watched as the strange superhero got pummeled and cut and knocked around. Kirk had to give it to him, the guy knew how to take a hit. But soon he realized that perhaps he had taken one too many.

The heavy butt of a pistol came down on the masked man's head. He stumbled to the ground. At this, Kirk couldn't stand by any longer. Jim burst from around the corner and fired his phaser, hitting his target's back squarely in the middle. The man crumpled, and the last gun fell. Somehow, Matt managed to regain his footing and kick the gun away. In a panic, the young man that held the girls hostage yanked a large bag from the hands of one of them and dashed.

"Spock, get him! Masked man falling!" Jim shouted. Spock dashed down the alleyway, in quick pursuit of the thief. It took only moments before he caught up. He grabbed the boy's shoulder, rendering him unconscious with a pinch. Spock lowered him to the ground and jogged back with the purse.

Meanwhile, Matt had collapsed into Kirk's arms. He could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness quickly, and futilely grasped at the hat covering his eyes. The strange recycled smell of Kirk's uniform irritated his nose. But what upset him more was the oddity of Spock, kneeling beside him now to check his vitals. Spock's pulse was softer, but faster, and his body was much colder than any healthy person he'd met. He smelled… different. Coppery. Matt had a good read on the heartbeat, despite his failing consciousness, but it seemed to be emanating from entirely the wrong place. Matt's hand slid from his mask before passing out. "What… are you?"


End file.
